Hitman: Codename X and Contracts and Crosses
by mercva
Summary: YAHF, crossover with Hitman. Also has a look at after Halloween. Xander dresses up as an East European hitman for the night.


Summary: YAHF. Hitman.

Crossover: Hitman game series.

Disclaimer: I own nought.

Feedback: Please! I love comments!

Pre-fic Comments:

Yes, I like Halloween fics.

I'd like to see someone else write a Hitman crossover as well.

* * *

Xander blinked, looking around. He was surrounded by drunken frat-guys, here on a covert mission to keep an eye on the short, svelte Buffy Summers.

"So, have either of you seen a pair of girls here? One's about so high," Xander trailer off, speaking to a couple of girls who were drinking cups of... punch. He then spotted a few frat-guys. This wouldn't be unusual, given that the place was full of 'em, but they seemed to be coming straight for him. "Hey, guys!"

"We got us a crasher," Linebacker said. He looked to be an American Gridiron player.

"New pledge," a second Gridiron player said.

"New pledge," the first roared.

"New pledge," the second player yelled.

"New pledge! New pledge! New pledge! New pledge! New pledge," the two chanted, dragging Xander off somewhere.

With any luck, he'd find Buff where they were taking him.

* * *

Xander wasn't so sure this was a good idea anymore. After a cup of punch, he had been held down and his head had been shaven. He'd been at a loss to explain this, until a fairly itchy wig was dumped on his scalp.

The first player grabbed his cheeks, squeezing them together to force his lips to pucker, then dragging an open tube of lipstick across them.

"C'mon, dance, pretty boy," the second player commanded.

Xander wasn't sure how they'd gotten him into a skirt and bra. He thought it had something to do with the punch. There was no way that that was all punch, given the punch it packed. He decided to play along, trying to dance.

"Keep it movin'," the second player laughed. "C'mon! Shake it, don't break it! Wrap it up and I'll take it!"

"Okay, big fun guys. Uhhh, who's next," Xander asked nervously.

"You are, doll face! Keep on dancin'! Ah, alright!"

* * *

Xander stumbled down the hill, hiding his shame with a voluminous robe he'd found. He spotted Angel, Willow, and Giles, stepping on a branch as he moved towards them.

"Hey," Angel said.

"Hey," Xander retorted. He lifted the hood of the robe from his eyes. "What are you guys doing here?"

"A bunch of girls are missing, and the Zeta Kappas may be involved, and Buffy," Willow explained succinctly. "My God, where did your hair go! Are you wearing makeup?"

"I don't know, and no," Xander lied. "I think Buffy's still inside somewhere with Cordelia. Her car's still here."

"Why are you wearing that," Giles asked, gesturing towards the robe.

"Oh, I found it in their trash," Xander explained. "I saw them through the window. They were wearing robes and went down to the basement. I was gonna use it to sneak in."

"They may be involved in some kind of ritual," Giles theorized.

"With the missing girls," Willow added.

"With Buffy," Angel finished, vamping out.

"Okay, that is the guy you wanna party with," Xander decided. No way anyone was getting him into a dress again, especially not if he could get Angel to throw 'em around a bit.

* * *

Once inside, Xander stepped up to the door and knocked. An eyeslit opened up.

"Got locked out dumping the trash," Xander improvised, drawing inspiration from his robe source. "Let me in. I don't wanna miss the, uh..."

"Come on," the robed figure said.

"...you know what," Xander finished his sentence. He threw back his hood. "Where are they!

He punched the gridiron player in the face, knocking him down, then shook his hand to try and get some feeling back into it. Angel moved around him and hit another robed figure.

Xander decided that Angel was doing a pretty good job of punching out cultists. So good, in fact, that Xander would only be a hindrance to his hitting glory. So he decided to settle for getting some payback, as he spotted one of the gridiron players that had humiliated him.

"That's for the wig," Xander said, sitting on the first player's back and punching him. "That's for the bra!"

He probably should have moved down to help Buffy, but a fairly strong vampire, a budding witch, and a Watcher were going to her aid. So he settled for continueing the smackdown.

"That's for the makeup," he roared, punching the gridiron player again and knocking him out. "And that's for the last sixteen and a half years!"

* * *

The next day found Xander sitting at the Bronze, reading the Sunnydale Press. He had a beanie on, hiding his shaven head. Buffy and Willow were quietly eating lunch with him, as Cordelia passed them.

"Young men are the only way to go," Queen C sniffed, continuing on.

"Says here that they've all been sentenced to consecutive life sentences," Xander said. After all the cultists had had the pain dealt to them, he'd rung the police on their asses. "Investigators found the bones of missing girls in a huge cavern beneath the frat house. And older bones dating back fifty years."

Buffy and Willow exchanged a grossed-out look that Xander completely failed to notice.

"A surprising number of corporations whose chairmen and founders are former Delta Zeta Kappas are suffering from falling profits, IRS raids," Xander said, quite happy and not bothering to hide his glee. "Ooo, and suicides in the boardroom. Hmm. Starve a snake, lose a fortune. Boy, I guess the rich really are different, huh?"

"Have you heard from Angel," Willow asked Buffy excitedly. This whole starcrossed lovers thing was /so/ romantic! "When he got so mad about you being in danger, and changed into a grr, it was the most amazing thing I ever saw. I mean, how many guys can..."

"Angel, Angel, Angel. Does every conversation we have have to come around to that freak," Xander asked, noticing what the two were talking about. His head lifted further as he noticed said freak approaching. "Hey, man, how you doin'?"

"Buffy," Angel said.

"Angel," Buffy said, not sure of where she stood with the dark vampire.

"Xander," Xander said in his best James Earl Jones voice.

"I hear this place, uh, serves coffee," Angel said, referring to Buffy's offer of a coffee together. "I thought maybe you and I should get some. Sometime. If you want."

"Yeah. Sometime. I'll let you know," Buffy said with a smile.

Angel gave her a wary look as Buffy got up and left, a smile on her face.

Xander quietly made gagging noises.

"Oh, quiet you," Willow said. "I think they look cute together."

* * *

The week passed kinda okay for Xander. No one seemed to have twigged onto the fact that his hair had disappeared, other than a short guy with blue hair who had raised a wordless eyebrow.

Well, that was a lie. It wasn't kinda okay. It was kinda not really okay. Snyder had decided that Xander had volunteered to escort six year olds, all protests to the contrary, and Buffy had humiliated him in front of Larry.

He dropped onto a sofa in the student lounge, dumping his bag onto the coffee table.

"Let's... not talk about Larry," Willow said brightly.

"Okay," Xander shrugged. "What are you guys going as for Halloween?"

"I don't know... I'm thinking noblewoman so far," Buffy said. "You?"

Xander looked pensively down at his bag. A computer games magazine had slid out of it. His eyes fell on the character Codename 47 on the cover. "Someone forgettable."

Both cool, and also someone with no head hair. Given how itchy that damn frat wig had been, Xander wasn't really crazy to put one on for the whole of Halloween.

* * *

Xander looked around the small shop. It had opened just that week, so he was kinda hoping he could get some good deals.

"Are you after anything in particular," the shopkeeper asked.

"Just a couple of plastic handguns, Hardballers," Xander said. "Those, and a couple of black gloves."

"You have everything else you require," the shopkeeper asked. "We do have some good specials on costumes this week."

"Nah, I'm good," Xander said. "I've got everything else I need."

* * *

Xander adjusted his red tie with a gloved hand, striding through the school doors. He was wearing his dad's old suit, one that had been passed down for one that fit his father's new... physique. He had taken off the slight stubble that had grown on his head in the last week -- after this, he'd leave it to grow. The plastic .45's were in a combat harness that the shop dude had thrown in, and Xander had made up a pretend garrotte. He had forgone a knife, as Snyder would bust a gut and land him in the uncool realm of expellation.

Larry walked past him, dressed as a pirate. "Where's your bodyguard, Harris? Curling her hair?"

"That's Hitman to you," Xander returned, quite proud of how he managed not to flinch. The professional clothes had instilled a sense of pride and purpose in him, somehow.

He continued down the hall until Snyder spotted him.

"Well... it seems you aren't a complete loss," Snyder sneered. "Here're your kids. You lose any, you're dead. You break any, you're dead. You let them get broken, and guess what?"

"Christmas comes early," Xander joked.

"You're dead."

He rolled his eyes as the diminuitive principal strode off, turning to his collection of kids.

"Okay, on sleazing extra candy: tears are key," Xander outlined. "Tears will normally get you the double-bagger. You can also try the old 'you missed me' routine, but it's risky. Only go there for chocolate. Understood?"

"Yeah," the kids chorused.

Xander pulled out the garrotte, drawing a section of it taunt. "Okay, let's go knock 'em dead."

* * *

Xander fell to his knees as Ethan Rayne's spell wore off. Mr 47 had decided to help Willow, God only knew why. Well, God and Xander.

His eyes fell to the two guns in his hands. Mr 47, finding that body mass shots had not worked in the slightest on the vampire attacking with hostile intent, had gone for disabling shots. Earlier, he'd pistolwhipped a randy pirate, since the foul thing had seemed more drunken than anything else. 47 hadn't done anything about the demons roaming the streets -- he had no idea who they were, what they did, what they were, or why he was there.

"Welcome back, Xander," Buffy said brightly, having dusted Spike once she had changed back and Spike was still unable to move due to the shattered bone joints that had not regenerated due to the obstructing bullets.

"Hi," Xander said softly.

"You guys remember what happened," Cordelia asked, curious. Xander had been pretty much mute, always a plus, but Buffy couldn't seem to shut up during the spell. She didn't know if she wanted them to be influenced or not.

"It was way creepy," Xander said, his voice unjoking. "It's like I was there, but I couldn't get out."

"Yeah, I know the feeling. This outfit's totally skintight," Cordelia nodded.

"I've got sixteen years of Sunnydale memories, and another batch of memories where I was working as a hitman in Eastern Europe," Xander continued. "In one, I'm a happy joking teenager, and in the other I'm an unemotional killer, and I'm not entirely sure which is me."

Queen C had no answer for that.

"You okay," Angel asked Buffy.

"Yeah," Buffy said flippantly, as the vampire put his arm around her shoulders and began leading her away.

"Hello," Cordelia said indignantly. "It felt like I was talking, my lips were moving and..."

"Give it up, Cordy," Xander said, shaking his head. "You're never gonna get between those two. Believe me, I know."

"Well, I guess you better get them back to their parents," Cordelia said, gesturing towards the kids.

Xander settled for duty, working to take his mind away from his new (or old) problems. "Yeah..."

* * *

**Hitman X: Contracts and Crosses**

* * *

Summary: A sequel to a YAHF. Hitman.

Crossover: Hitman game series.

Disclaimer: I own nought.

Feedback: Please! I love comments!

Pre-fic Comments:

I've been playing Hitman: Contracts and got a case of the enthusiasms.

I'm assuming that the Field Manual I have (FM 23-10) is not out of date with respect to some of the weapons. I don't really know that much about guns apart from computer games, too.

A fair chunk of eps will be skipped in this.

* * *

Xander crouched low behind a wall as a patrolling soldier walked past, sneaking up to him after he checked that there weren't any other patrols in sight. He reached one arm to the man's mouth, silencing him, while the other inserted a syringe in the neck, injecting a dose of heavy sedative.

"Sorry, man," Xander whispered, dragging the body back into the deep shadows between buildings. "But a guy in a suit sticks out here."

He quietly and quickly stole the man's clothing, pulling on the hat to hide his bald head. (Ever since Halloween... well, having actual hair on his head just felt wrong, for some weird reason.) The only anomaly was the empty backpack.

"Let's see... Seymour Teeanass," Xander read quietly from the ID card. "Wow... man, do I feel sorry for you. That's too easy, even for me."

Xander rose to his feed, continuing on the man's patrol pattern until he reached the armoury and picked the lock with an ease speaking of expertise.

This was so easy it was almost criminal.

Shutting the door behind him, he began checking out the racks.

"Wow... an AT-4 rocket launcher? Why in God's name would a small town army base need a rocket launcher? Hmmm... Ah, 1911's, very nice. Right, three, and ammo, won't bother with the sub machine guns."

Xander put the three handguns in the pack as well as several boxes of ammo, then swept his eye over the rifle racks.

"This night just gets weirder and weirder," Xander muttered.

He took all the components for the 'M24 Sniper Weapon System', including a scope case. Man, he really had to find a gunsmith who was discrete to work on this thing...

"Fucking Hell," Xander said. "Why in God's name would a small Californian base have a Dragunov sniper rifle! This is insane... wish I could take it, but it's too damn distinctive."

He quietly put everything else into the pack, then made his way back to where the unconscious soldier was. Putting his suit back on, Xander quietly sneaked out of the base.

* * *

"So Giles is sure that the vampire who stole his book is connected to the one you slayed last night," Willow asked. After a moment of thought, she added, "Or is it slew?"

"Both are correct, and, yes, I'm sure. Du Lac was both a, a... a theologian and a mathematician," Giles said, returning with National Geographic in hand. He opened it. "This article describes an invention of his, which he called 'The Du Lac Cross'."

"So, why go to all the trouble of inventing something, and then giving it a weak name like that," Xander asked. "I mean, I'da gone with 'The Cross-o-matic', or, uh, 'The Amazing Mr. Cross'. Maybe the Cross T-9000 or something."

"The cross was more than a mere symbol, it was used to understand certain mystical texts, to, uh, decipher hidden meanings and so forth," Giles explained.

"So you're saying these vampires went to all this hassle for your basic decoder ring," Buffy asked.

"Uh, actually, yes, I, I suppose I am," Giles said.

"According to this, Du Lac destroyed every cross except the one buried with him," Willow reported.

"Why destroy your own work," Buffy asked.

"Perhaps he feared what might happen if it fell into the wrong hands," Giles said, pacing.

"A fear we'll soon get to experience for ourselves up close and personal," Xander sighed. He got up. "I'll retrieve the cross... can't make any promises about the vamps. Hey, G-man, did you rustle up that vamp-strength sedative for me?"

"Er, quite," Giles said. "You'll find it in my office."

"Sweet," Xander said, wandering into the office.

"And in the meantime, we shall be attempting to learn what they're trying to do," Giles said.

"By doing...," Buffy trailed off.

"Uh, by learning what's in the book before they do. Which means we can expect to be here later tonight," Giles said, sitting down.

"Goody! Research party," Willow said, beaming.

"Research? And that's my cue to leave," Xander said. "I have to pick up my suit from the drycleaners, anyway."

"You and suit is just wrong," Buffy said.

"Great camouflage, and I look sharp in it," Xander complained. "I mean, I blend in nearly wherever I go, and no one associates a guy in a suit with a guy who wears tie dye tshirts all the time."

"I have to go, too," Buffy said.

* * *

Xander hated vampires. Even more than he hated the actual vampires, he hated their supernatural strength. And their senses, oh yes, he hated their senses.

A vampire half a meter in front of him sniffed.

"Butch, you hear something?"

His radio crackled, as 'Butch' told 'Jack' to shut up and keep an eye out.

Xander took the opportunity while 'Jack' was fiddling with his radio to grab his mouth and inject the syringe in the same, smooth movement. He really, really hoped this worked.

Bingo!

We're in dead-sleep city, Xander crowed mentally, looting the vampire's pockets, turning up about five hundred bucks in cash. Not bad... he then staked it while it was unconscious.

That was something Xander actually liked about vampires -- killing them didn't leave behind any dead bodies to alarm other vampires.

He pulled out one of his 1911 handguns -- the one that he had gotten a silencer for. Slowly opening a door, and thanking God that the hinges weren't rusty, he lined up the sights with the upper head of the lone vampire in the next room, who had a radio playing classical music.

Stupid enemies were a gift from God, Xander decided as the .45ACP round turned the brains of the vampire into so much mincemeat. He then quietly moved to the corpse. The blood, bone and meat on the floor was a pain, but luckily the vamp had lots of books to cover the bloodstains with.

Xander looted six hundred bucks, a gold pocket watch and a notebook before he dusted the vamp. Scanning the bench, he found what could only be the golden Du Lac cross, covered with arcane symbols. He pocketed that too, putting it in an inside jacket pocket. He took the notes the vampire had been making as well, before sneaking back out.

* * *

"Get cher crosses 'ere," Xander said, in a truly horrible accent that he would probably claim to be 'Cockney'. "Hand we'll 'orow in yer free translations!"

Giles winced. "If I take them, do you solemnly promise to never try and put on a British accent again?"

"Can't make any promises, sorry," Xander said, not sorry at all as he handed a bag over to Giles.

The Watcher looked in the bag, pulling out the golden Cross of Du Lac as well as several sheets of paper. "Ah, good... the cross is here, but what are these papers?"

"Dunno, but the vampire was working on them so I figured you'd want them," Xander shrugged.

"Well done, Xander, well done," Giles said approvingly.

"Any chance you could get the Council of Watchers to pay for this contract," Xander asked, hopeful.

"I will endeavour to convince them to do so," Giles said absently, hands running over the enscriptions.

* * *

Post-fic Comments:

What's up with Buffy's comment about Soup Bowl Champs when Angel mentions a ring? I mean, rings, you think either marriage or spies or secret societies, not damn sports events! And no, I didn't cover Taraka.


End file.
